


Siren's Call

by snowyfoxpaws



Series: Age of Magic [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Half-Human, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowyfoxpaws/pseuds/snowyfoxpaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hardly difficult to find your one true love when magic's involved. The only issue is convincing him to love you back.</p><p>Sequel to Down the Rabbit Hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one o' clock

The name of the pub was Siren's Call.  
  
Alfred had only visited it for the first time last week, but he found himself compelled to return again and that was humorous when you considered the name of the establishment. It beckoned to him.  
  
As a dragon, it was almost poetic. He, a great beast disturbed from dormancy by the voice of an angel.  
  
Or, rather, the voice and sight and scent and feeling of a lover, albeit one who did not know his name.  
  
Walking once more down the sloping, cobblestone streets of the city, Alfred felt nervousness flutter to life in his chest. When Arthur, his mate, had died, he had said to come find him. And Alfred had done just that, although unknowingly, summoned here by the spell Arthur had cast on him with his last breath...  
  
The thing was, he didn't know what it was he was supposed to do  _next_.  
  
He had found Arthur, the once half-incubus now in the form of an under-twenty something with white, fluffy wings. He wasn't sure what he  _was_  but he knew that it was fitting in a strange way. Those wings were identical to the ones of tattoo the man had had on his back, so there was no question that this must have been fate.  
  
Or perhaps divinity just had a funny sense of humor.  
  
Whatever the cause, it mattered not. What  _did_  matter was that this was his mate and their bond was still there, albeit faint, and he had to figure out what he was going to do about that. Arthur didn't know who he was, let alone their delicate, but intimate, relationship, but that didn't change the fact that he was a dragon's most prized treasure and the restless urge to have him near, safe and protected, was an unsettled simmering in Alfred's blood.  
  
He had only been able to stay away for a mere seven moons before the urge to see him again had become too much to bear.  
  
Weaving by those passing on the walkway, Alfred navigated the bustling main street, the shops alive with couples this time of night. It was later in the evening than the first time he had come here, so he wasn't surprised to walk in and find the pub alive with music and inebriated patrons.  
  
It took only moments for him to locate the figure of Arthur as the server slipped through the crowd, an empty tray under one arm as he headed for the kitchen. Turning his attention away from his mate for a moment, Alfred saw the pubkeeper grinning at him.  
  
"Couldn't stay away, could yew?" He laughed. "I was actually surprised yew left b'fore the main show last time."  
  
"Main show?" Alfred repeated, approaching. He and the pubkeeper had hit it off fairly well when he had paid for his last meal with a solid gold coin. He wasn't an idiot-- he had known its value. But unfortunately he hadn't had anything less on him at the time.  
  
Still, he was a dragon. It was no matter if his hoard grew smaller as long as he could see Arthur as he pleased. He suspected the pubkeeper had caught onto his slight preoccupation with the winged server.  
  
"Yew don't  _know_?"  
  
Alfred raised a brow at him that quite clearly said that he wasn't here to play games.  
  
The pubkeeper just smiled and pointed a thick finger at Arthur. "He'll get up on the stage in an' hour an' sing. It'll be like nothin' yew've e'er heard before."  
  
For a long moment Alfred stared at him before his eyes glided over to Arthur, the young man taking a table's order. "He... sings?" The gnawing inside of him was intense-- raw and unyielding. This was something  _new_. This was something about _his Arthur_ that he hadn't known. He wondered if the old Arthur could sing. What might an incubus' song sound like?  
  
His throat suddenly felt tight.  
  
"Sure does! Keeps this place in business 'e does. I'd get a seat before they're all gone if I were yew."  
  
Alfred didn't even respond as he gave the room a quick look and found, coincidentally, that the same table from his first visit was vacant. He made short work of claiming it, slipping down into the seat with ease. He shot the stage a calculated look and decided that he had a decent view. He wasn't near the front, no, but there were no other tables that would block his view.  
  
He was satisfied.  
  
It was only a minute or so before Arthur was over to take his order and those beautiful eyes were once more focused on him and  _only_  him. "You again?" He said, his sweetly accented voice making the dragon's head feel light.  
  
Alfred spared a glance to the ring on his own left hand, nestled meaningfully onto the finger after the littlest. The emerald in the setting glimmered back at him. He should have known that an imitation couldn't compare. Regardless, it was probably the closest he could have physically gotten...  
  
But the  _real thing_  was before him and he indulged in looking deep into those vibrant eyes. "Yes?"  
  
Arthur suddenly seemed to realize that his greeting had been a bit rude and he flustered, "O- oh, ah, well-- sorry. I mean-- Can I take your order?"  
  
Oh gods, how was he not supposed to ravish this sweet, young thing? It was Arthur, but so vulnerable and left bare of all his shields.   
  
He felt a twinge of arousal. What might he taste like?  
  
"Beg pardon?" Arthur balked.  
  
"What?" Alfred said, blinking.  
  
His reincarnated lover's face turned scarlet. "Y- you... you..." He shook his head, a scowl trying to surface on those reddened features, "I'll make this very clear-- we are  _not_  that kind of establishment. I am  _not_  on the menu." And with that he stormed away, disappearing through some door that only employees were allowed to enter.  
  
It took Alfred a very long moment to process what had just happened.  
  
And when it finally came to him he felt a blush creep across his face.  
  
Arthur had heard one of his thoughts... and somehow he seemed to have mistaken it for Alfred speaking aloud. They still had that mental connection from before, weak but there, embedded neatly alongside his ability to sense all that his mate was feeling.  
  
The dragon couldn't help himself.  
  
Filled with an overwhelming amount of mirth, he laughed.

It just felt _so damn good_ to be near him again.


	2. two o' clock

This time a different server came to take his order--a brunette woman who eyed him suspiciously for a moment as she tapped her pen to her pad of paper. She didn't seem too keen on asking him what he wanted, instead giving him a very blatant once over.  
  
"Can I help you?" Alfred ended up asking her instead.   
  
The woman didn't even look ashamed, cat-ears twitching on her head at the sound of his voice. She wore a pin in her hair, made of some material Alfred couldn't identify. "You're lucky you didn't get kicked out." She said, staring at him critically. And then, "Arthur must really like you."  
  
Alfred felt his brows meet his hairline. "What?" He didn't follow, but the now erratic beating of his heart drove him to take her bait. "Why do you say that?"  
  
She hummed. "You really  _don't_  know, do you?" At his blank look she continued. "He's what makes this place stay in business. And there's a very strict, number one rule..." She looked down at him, slit-eyes boring into his very soul, "Sexually harass or assault him and get kicked out." She smiled at him again. "He's the judge and you can imagine he uses that power liberally."  
  
That explained why, despite their inebriation, many of the patrons kept their hands to themselves, lascivious thoughts, if any, locked firmly away in the safety of their minds. Alfred glanced up at the woman, "He's really that popular?"  
  
She just smiled at him, eyes twinkling with mirth. "You haven't heard him sing."  
  
That was true. Alfred was beginning to feel his curiosity simmer to a boil. Was Arthur's singing truly that spectacular? It seemed to be all that anyone could talk about. Considering his history, Alfred wouldn't have been surprised if it was true. Anyone else he would have doubted, but this was  _Arthur_...  
  
"So, what's this about him liking me...?" He said slowly, knowing that his interest would give him away but not caring in the slightest.  
  
The servant grinned openly. "Oh, he has people booted for much less! You should have  _seen_  him in the kitchen-- his face was so red it was like you'd grabbed his ass and he just kept  _ranting_  and, oooh, just  _who are you_ , because when the cook asked if he wanted you gone there was this horrified look on his face and I've  _never_  seen anything like that before..." The girl put her hand to her cheek and practically swooned.  
  
"I'm... nobody." Alfred said, perplexed. Admitting that aloud made a his chest ache with a gnawing feeling. He didn't like it.  
  
"Well you must be  _someone_  to him." She said. "Anyway, I need your order. I've gossiped long enough..." She continued, suddenly all business. He wondered vaguely if he had been played somehow.  
  
Alfred glanced at the tag on her chest, reading Elizaveta in elegant scrawl. He would have to keep this...  _cat woman_  in mind. She seemed to know a lot about Arthur. "Steak, please."  
  
After inputting his order--the same meal he had eaten the last time he was here, which had been surprisingly satisfying--Alfred was left alone with his thoughts.  
  
He stared at the glass of water he had been given, frowning.   
  
So... Arthur was treating Alfred  _differently_  from the rest of the patrons. When he thought about it, it only made sense that the former incubus would recognize him on some level. They had had an extraordinarily strong bond, after all. Dying for the one you love could only hope to strengthen that, in the long run.  
  
It was like woven fate.  
  
This was what legends and faerie tales were made of, right?  
  
Well, at least the happier ones. Alfred could only hope their lives fell into such a category. From Arthur's reincarnation, he could only assume...  
  
Then again, tragedy could befall suddenly and without warning.  
  
He felt his nails dig into the wood, the old material giving way beneath his dragon's strength.  
  
Fate or not, nothing would be happening to Arthur so long as he lived. If there was breath in his body, he would see to it that his mate was safe. That in mind, he found his eyes drawn to the winged figure as he emerged from the back room, glimmering, elegant wings trailing behind him.  
  
Even though they were on opposite sides of the room, Arthur looked at him.  
  
Their eyes met.  
  
The server stared for a long moment and it looked to Alfred like Arthur had to physically force himself to look away.  
  
And then he started for the stage.  
  
A hushed murmur fell over the room as Arthur stepped onto the first slat of the small staircase, all eyes drifting to meet his figure although he gave none the courtesy of meeting their gaze. He was still dressed in his waiting uniform, but somehow the stark white shirt and ink black pants gave him an elegant appearance as he settled himself on a tall stool, one leg crossing loosely over the other as he folded his hands on his knees.  
  
And then the wings behind him spread open, wide and full, and Alfred felt breathless at the sight of them.  
  
The entire room was silent.  
  
It seemed no instrument was forthcoming, just Arthur alone on the stage. He looked out over at the crowd, but his gaze never seemed to meet a single face, merely ghosting over the patrons.  
  
The room was so quiet, it was as though not a single person dared to breathe. For a bar full of drunken patrons, that was beyond impressive.  
  
Yet Alfred couldn't feel even the slightest trace of magic in the air.  
  
And then...   
  
Arthur opened his mouth.  
  
" _Alas, my love... you do me wrong..._ " The silence of the room was washed away, slow, gentle notes filling the air. Alfred felt his throat go dry as he stared at the stage, entranced. " _To cast me off... discourteously..._ "  
  
His heart was pounding, palms sweaty and shaking. What was this? Was it magic? Was it some kind of divine power?  
  
" _For I have loved you well and long..._ " A breath. " _Delighting in... your company..._ "  
  
He felt overwhelmed, emotions rushing up and coursing through him like heat. The words stayed in his ears long after they had faded and he couldn't help but hear what they said.  
  
Arthur's eyes were closed now as he tipped his head, wings fluttering softly as he lost himself in his own song. Alfred could do nothing more than stare, desperately wishing now that he had chosen a closer seat.  
  
" _Greensleeves was all my joy..._ " Arthur leaned forward slightly. " _Greensleeves was my delight..._ " And then back again. " _Greensleeves was my heart of gold..._ " And then he opened his eyes again. " _And who but my lady Greensleeves..._ "  
  
He looked ethereally divine in that moment, as the last note dissolved throughout the room like a mist. Were he not so beautiful and the notes so warm, the melody would have been haunting, but as Alfred stared at him, he could only feel a strange, overwhelming feeling of _love_.  
  
Then those eyes turned on him, a gentle shift all it took to meet his own, and for a moment Arthur stared, looking as though it were  _he_  caught in a trance.  
  
And then, suddenly, Alfred was graced with the most painfully soft smile he had ever witnessed on that delicate face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greensleeves melody, APH England style: [[link]](http://youtu.be/1HvLYB2Euqg)


	3. three o' clock

Alfred wasn't sure what compelled him, but as Arthur left the stage he found himself following after, body weaving through crowded tables laden with silent and awestruck patrons. The song's melody had barely faded from the venue, but the atmosphere it had left behind was nearly tangible.  
  
It was easy to navigate towards him when that back was gifted with such bright, white wings, a beacon in the dim lighting of the pub, but then Arthur went around a corner and Alfred's pursuit became frantic as he fumbled after him.  
  
Turning the corner, he found a hall that led to a back exit and he felt his brow furrow as he walked towards it. This led outside but... there was nowhere else Arthur could have gone.  
  
He pushed open the door gently, the crisp, cool night air prickling his skin as he stepped into an alleyway. To his left, the street. To his right, a dead end. Neither gave him the location of Arthur.  
  
And then he looked up.  
  
Perched neatly on the low roof, legs crossed on the slatted ledge, deep, emerald eyes peered down at him from where Arthur sat with his arms crossed, head cocked curiously.  
  
"I thought you might follow me." The reincarnation said smoothly and, in that moment, Alfred could almost see the old Arthur in those brilliant eyes.  
  
However these were different times and they were, to each other, different people, so Alfred smothered the urge to react emotionally, instead leaning against the brick walling of the pub so that he could tip his head up to view the figure on the roof opposite. "Did you?"  
  
Leaning forward, Arthur let one elbow come to rest on his knee as he wedged his chin into the curve of his hand. "Yes."  
  
Alfred could see at the server's back a blanket of stars, the stark feathers a sharp contrast with the black sky. For a moment he stared. Then he looked away, exhaling a sigh. "And... why might you think that?"  
  
"You weren't charmed by my song."  
  
Alfred's head snapped up and he could have kicked himself for such a reaction were he not too busy searching Arthur's eyes for a sign of old magic.  
  
This time Arthur didn't wait for a response, instead looking away as though he were bored, but the gesture seemed more an act than anything else. "You are immune..."  
  
There were many reasons Alfred could think of for why that might be, but Arthur, unaware of any of them, continued with his own:  
  
"It makes sense that you would be." Those eyes turned back to him, the full, dark pupils so unlike the feral look of wild magic Arthur had had about him in his past life. "You're the man from my dreams."  
  
Alfred stared at him, brow furrowing. "Your... dreams?"  
  
Regretfully, long lashes came to rest at his cheeks as Arthur shut his eyes and leaned back, deep green hidden from the world as he sighed. "Ever since I can remember..." He said. "Each night I see your face. Sometimes it is happy and warm and sometimes it is cold and wild and, occasionally, it is sad and forlorn, but I have never had any other dream," Arthur's eyes opened again as he looked down at him, "aside from  _you_."  
  
His chest felt tight with a gnawing, uncertain hope as a pained breathlessness crept through his chest. Arthur  _remembered_  him. Perhaps it wasn't in the way that he would have hoped for, but it was  _something_. He swallowed, trying to piece his mind back together long enough to find words. "You... You  _recognized_  me... when we first met." It wasn't really a question.  
  
Arthur's eyes fluttered shut again. "Yes." That words was so poised and delicate, but Alfred felt the weight of a thousand others bearing down upon that single syllable. And then, "I want to know why that is."  
  
They exchanged glances and Alfred knew that there was no way he could have hoped to pretend that he didn't  _know_. This might not have been the  _same_  Arthur, but it was still  _his_  Arthur, and there was something magnificently daunting about that light, expectant scowl that had him eager to please. Alfred opened his mouth, ready to launch into an explanation, prepared to spill everything--  
  
"Not here." Arthur interrupted him before he could even say a single word of it, and, with a single, fluid movement, he slipped from the edge of the roof, landing on his feet with such grace that a feline would have been left envious. "Come with me." He said suddenly, walking towards the mouth of the alley.  
  
Having no choice but to follow, Alfred trailed after, his body thrumming with the urge to touch him. But no-- he couldn't risk scaring him off. Not now. Not when everything felt like it was coming together all on its own. He couldn't have hoped for anything better than this. But, "Don't you have work?"  
  
"They will be just fine without me." Arthur said, not even turning to look at him.   
  
For a few minutes they walked in silence, the calm bustle of evening streets a pleasant background noise as they kept to their own thoughts. And then, without warning, the figure in front of him stopped and Alfred nearly ran into him, stopping just a hair's distance away, close enough that his mind was suddenly muddled as he took in Arthur's sweet, earthy scent.  
  
That hadn't changed a bit.  
  
"I live here." The reincarnation said, shifting free an old metal key from his pocket as he slipped it into a rusty lock. It was a small building, nestled snugly between two others, and Alfred blinked up at it as the door was pressed open by pale hands.  
  
Frowning, the dragon stared at him for a moment. "You trust me enough to invite me into your home?" He felt a tug of worry. Was Arthur simply naive? He had to have countless admirers, after all...  
  
"You're different." Arthur said, and Alfred had to wonder if it was coincidence or if his thoughts had been unintentionally read again. "I  _know_  you..." There was a pause in which Alfred truly wished he could have seen his face. "You're... like an old friend. I don't know why, but..." Again he hesitated, before, "That's just... how I feel about you. There's something important there. And when I saw your face..."  
  
Alfred was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was holding his breath as he strained to hear young man's next words:  
  
"When I saw your face, I felt...  _relieved_. I thought,  _'Finally, he's here!'_  and... I don't know why." Arthur turned to face him, dark eyes searching his own with a pensive look of uncertainty. "You're important." And then those eyes narrowed slightly. "And you're going to tell me  _why_."


	4. four o' clock

The inside of Arthur's home was strangely cramped and cluttered, full of old furniture and nick-nacks and, honestly, it didn't really  _feel_  like Arthur at all.  
  
In fact, once Alfred really looked at it, the small space of the home laden with possessions, he realized that that was because this  _wasn't_  Arthur's mess. Other people lived here as well although, from the silence, he would bet none were currently home. Strange, that. Alfred could only peer at the back guiding him up a narrow stairwell with wonder, curious as to whether this meant he lived with his family or with someone else. The thought made a warm, fluttering feeling spring up in him as he thought about how happy that would have made Arthur. He had always seemed so forlorn when talking about the parents he had never met in his old life...  
  
Knowing that he likely had a family now reassured Alfred somehow. He wanted Arthur to be happier in this life.  
  
He wanted that more than anything.  
  
Alfred was gestured into a small room on the third floor--or, more accurately, the  _only room_  on the third floor, the ceiling sloping inwards like an attic which, really, was what it was. Except that apparently it had been turned into a bedroom, a low mattress on the floor in the corner with a down comforter sprawled across it, piles of books spread throughout, stacked high, some lined neatly and others precarious, and a tea cup sitting on the windowsill.  
  
While different, this...  _this_  felt more like Arthur.  
  
Alfred glanced at the young man in question, frowning lightly at his back as the reincarnation went about removing books from a chair. "Apologies. I wasn't expecting guests." Arthur said, voice rigid and tense.  
  
He radiated unease.  
  
"This is your room?" Alfred said slowly.  
  
Arthur peered at him, brow furrowing. "Yes. And--?"  
  
Alfred approaching him, snapping his wrist in his hand and pulling it up over his head. Green eyes turned indescribably wide. The dragon sighed and released it. "See? I could be anyone. You don't know me. Stop being so trusting." This was the kind of behaviour that would get Arthur hurt in the long run. Alfred had experienced that naivety firsthand.  
  
The younger man huffed, backing away from him slightly as his face turned red from what Alfred presumed to be irritation. "Idiot. You know nothing about me. I know what I'm doing."  
  
"Oh?" Alfred exhaled a laugh. "And what  _are_  you doing?" He said stepping forward even as Arthur stepped away. The winged man's back only stopped once it hit the wooden wall of the room, a soft gasp on his lips from surprise as Alfred closed in on him. "You see me in your dreams, don't you? But you think I know  _nothing_  about you? Are you stupid?" Alfred said softly, voice low and deep as he leaned in.  
  
His palm came to rest on the other man's shoulder.  
  
"I know a lot more about you than you think." Alfred told him. And then that palm pressed down, not painfully, but his fingers dug into that soft, yielding flesh.  
  
"Nngh-- A- _aah_ \--!" Arthur choked on a moan, the shorter man's knees buckling, face red and body going limp, and Alfred felt suddenly possessive as he caught that perfect, fragile figure, the wings lazy and useless as they draped from his back.  
  
Alfred couldn't help himself. Here. Now. Presented with Arthur. He pressed his face into the crook of the other man's neck, breathing in deep the familiar scent as he felt Arthur's emotions flitter about wildly in the air, a heated, wanting anticipation among the strongest of them. That was to be expected. They were mates, after all, even if Arthur didn't know it yet.  
  
He knead the soft flesh of his neck under tooth, drinking in the delightful little whine Arthur gave him as he pressed him up against the wall. The other man was submissive and yearning, not fighting the way his hands ran along his body, not fighting the way Alfred's hips pressed down against his own, not fighting when the dragon leaned down and caught him in a feverish, heated kiss.  
  
It was warmth and fire and completion and Alfred felt like he was drowning--  _burning_ \-- he had to claim him-- this was his Arthur-- his mate--  _his_ \--  
  
The door behind them opened. " 'ey lad, anither package cam fur ye in th' post--..."

Silence fell upon the room like a weight being dropped as Alfred turned to see a red-headed man in the doorway. He had wings, much like Arthur's, and the same eyebrows too. A father or, no...  
  
 _A brother_.  
  
It all happened in a blur, but suddenly he was yanked clean from Arthur with a strength that he hadn't expected of such a lean man, his arms twisted around to his back as he was shoved down into the wood flooring, a hand knotting in his hair that pushed his face down. It had shocked Alfred so much so that he didn't even fight back, the dazed heat of arousal and need still heavy in him. "Wha--?"  
  
"Alistair, stop--," That was his mate. Alfred felt his muscles tense, ready to fight off the creature atop him if those anxious feelings in the air spiked into fear.  
  
"Arthur." The heavily accented voice of his assailant was calm and careful and very, very commanding. "Go downstairs."  
  
"But--,"  
  
" _Go_."  
  
Footsteps, soft and reluctant, his mate's scent fading, the feeling of his emotions dissipating from the room as the door softly clicked shut.  
  
Alfred was left alone with Arthur's brother.  
  
For some reason, he felt a strange sense of dread.


	5. five o' clock

The man, Alistair, was sat perched neatly atop him, one hand digging his arm into his back at a rather painful angle.  
  
And then the man released him, backing off, and Alfred sat up and rubbed his wrist with an annoyed expression. This really hadn't hurt as much as it would someone who was, well,  _not him_ , but it was extremely annoying. He had been separated from Arthur during a very intimate moment and his shoulders were tensed and heavy as instinctive urges clattered at him. This man had separated him from the mate he could still taste on his lips.  
  
This man was the enemy.  
  
Alistair pulled the chair across the floor, spinning it so that the back was towards him before straddling it and leaning against the curved wood, deep green eyes looking him over with a calculated glare. The color, while the same general one as Arthur's, were nothing like the younger man's. They were sharper-- _darker_ \--and there was a dangerous glint in them.  
  
"Sae..." The lean man said, watching him carefully. "Whit did ye dae tae Arthur?"  
  
Alfred wasn't sure how to answer that because the truth was that he had done so much and yet so very little. "You'll need to be more specific."  
  
Those eyes narrowed at him. "He was willingly kissin' ye." The man said slowly, carefully, every word having its moment to settle in the air before the next joined it. "Whit. did. ye. dae?"  
  
"I merely kissed him, if that is what you are asking." A pause. "And he kissed back."  
  
"I dornt think ye understand." Alistair said, his expression more one of befuddlement and some anger. "He doesnae like bein' tooched. Hates it, in fact. E'en I avoid it. Yit he didne min' when ye did it. Why?"  
  
"..." Alfred couldn't answer that question-- not when he had yet to even tell Arthur. So in the end he said nothing and Alistair sighed and looked at a far wall.  
  
"I dornt like ye." He said.  
  
Alfred snuffed. "I never asked you to like me."  
  
For a long moment Alistair just watched him, gears clicking and twisting in those eyes. Then a glimmer. "Arthur, ye can come in noo."  
  
Alfred was slightly confused as the man said that at a normal volume, not even bothering to yell the words so that his brother may hear them, but then that was explained away when the door creaked slowly open and Arthur entered, looking sheepish yet curious. "I was just, uh--,"  
  
Alistair glanced at Arthur and the two exchanged a look that Alfred couldn't read, but the elder brother came away from it with a smirk while the younger flushed red. Then the red-head looked at Alfred again. "Sae yoo're stayin' fur dinnah?"  
  
What.  
  
 _What?_  
  
"Uh..." Alfred looked between the two, but Arthur wasn't looking at him anymore as the blond shuffled anxiously. "Yes?" It was rude to refuse, wasn't it--? Even if he had already eaten...  
  
" _Good_." Alistair said, rising to stand. "I'll go see hoo it's comin' alang." And with that the man left them alone, even shutting the door behind himself as he left.  
  
Alfred felt very justified in the confusion that settled inside of him. "What just happened?" He asked Arthur, still staring at the door.  
  
Arthur sighed. "He thought you were, um..." A gesture of hands, "an intruder... I think."  
  
"Would he not react the same way if he had known I was here as your guest?"  
  
"No one is ever here as my guest."  
  
"... I see."  
  
Arthur crossed his arms, scowling at the interference. "He likes to meddle."  
  
Alfred wondered if that was an alternative way of saying, _'He means well.'_ He decided that, yes, that sounded accurate. "And now?"  
  
"Now what?"  
  
"Well he's left us alone, hasn't he?"  
  
"... Yes, well-- I- I don't know." Arthur admitted awkwardly. "This has never happened before. I thought he'd break your arm-- really, I'm surprised you're still  _conscious_."  
  
So that was unusual too.  
  
 _How peculiar_.  
  
"A- anyway..." Arthur cleared his throat, a flush creeping across his face. "How did you know about my birthmark--?"  
  
"Birthmark?" Alfred echoed.  
  
Arthur pointed to his shoulder awkwardly, unable to look him in the face. "A- and... how did you... how did you make it feel like... like _that_...?"  
  
Alfred looked at him for a moment before his lips twitched up into the softest of smiles.  
  
The winged man stared at him, waiting.  
  
"I can answer every question that you have for me."  
  
"Oh?" Arthur sounded skeptical. "Can you now?"  
  
"Of course I can." Alfred replied confidently, the gentle smile on his face lingering and earnest. "I'm your mate."


	6. six o' clock

"My... _what?_ " Arthur breathed, looking taken aback.  
  
"Mate." Alfred said softly, his voice careful and delicate and filled with more emotion than he cared to admit. After hundreds of years of not feeling anything, it seemed he was making up for that now as he drowned in his own emotions.  
  
Arthur was quiet, a light frown tugging on his lips where he stood, and Alfred picked himself up off of the wood flooring, approaching the other man like one might a wounded bird. Arthur didn't shy away this time, frozen in place, and he barely moved as Alfred traced a finger over the curve of his cheek.  
  
"You know it's true, don't you?"  
  
"..." Arthur looked away, brow furrowed. "That... that doesn't make any sense..."  
  
Alfred let his hand shift to brush away some of Arthur's bangs. "Why doesn't it?"  
  
Those emerald eyes peered up at him, this Arthur a hair shorter than the man he had been in his last life. "They're just _dreams_." He said-- there was a pleading note in his voice, like he was begging for Alfred to validate that as fact. "They're not  _real_."  
  
And then Alfred was embracing him, softly at first, and he felt as Arthur melted into it, leaning against him with his weight as though the two had always been lovers which, in a way, they had. His hands sifted through those short, soft locks. "What happens in your dreams?"  
  
Arthur pressed against him for a moment, as though steeling himself, and then, "I... always see you. Every single dream has your face in it."  
  
"Mm." Alfred just continued to stroke his hair. "And what do I do?"  
  
"You..." Arthur hesitated. "You... do many things..."  
  
"Like?" He was curious, the need to know what Arthur had dreamt of intense and painful, but at the same time everything around them was a haze as they simply shared this small bit of warmth, Arthur's hands pressed lightly to his chest.  
  
"I- in... in one you-- you  _bite_  me. Right where my birthmark is. It looks _exactly_ the same." He said, and Alfred felt a possessive tremor go through him as his arms tightened against that slim back ever so slightly. "You bite me and it  _hurts_  but then-- then it doesn't and... and I'm happy." Arthur's breath hitched and Alfred froze. "I'm really,  _really_  happy..."  
  
"Arthur are you--,"  
  
The man buried his face further in Alfred's chest, denying the question even as Alfred smelled the wet salt of tears. "And then it's all _gone_ \-- all of it-- and I'm alone--  _so alone_." A muffled sob. " _Why did you leave me alone?_ "  
  
Alfred's throat constricted painfully, a surge of guilt washing through him as his arms pressed Arthur close, clinging to him as he nuzzled at his hair. The smaller man was crying now-- tears that he probably didn't fully understand. " _I'm here now_..." Alfred whispered. "I'm here-- I'll never leave you again, I promise. _Never again_."  
  
Arthur just clutched at him, wings trembling as he cried, and Alfred felt so heartbroken to hear those breathy gasps of air. "I don't... I don't understand why I'm crying..." He managed to say, voice broken and mangled by emotion.  
  
"I know." Alfred just pressed his cheek to the side of Arthur's head, kissing his hair. "I know it hurts. I know you don't understand. But I'm here now, okay? I won't let you be alone anymore. You're mine. You've always been mine. I'm so sorry it took me so long to find you..."  
  
The body in his arms shifted slightly, the crying mellowing out until it stopped completely, Arthur's breathing uneven as he tried to calm himself. Alfred decided to aid him, gently pressing his palm to the man's shoulder and massaging lightly. Arthur went limp, relaxing against him with a pleased sigh.  
  
Some time passed as they stood there, but eventually Alfred said, "Feel better now?"  
  
Arthur was quiet for a moment before, "Yes." He sounded slightly embarrassed.  
  
Perhaps it wasn't the right time, but Alfred said, "Your brother says you never let anyone touch you..."  
  
"... Yes, that's..." Arthur trailed off.  
  
"What is it?" Alfred coaxed gently, now stroking the other man's hair again.  
  
"I don't know." Arthur admitted. "Every time someone would touch me I-- I would feel a lot of pain."  
  
Alfred paused. "Yet you work in a pub..."  
  
"Yes." For the first time in several minutes, Arthur looked up at him, and Alfred felt his heart break at the redness around his eyes, his finger coming up to stroke the remaining gleam of tears away. Arthur twitched slightly, but didn't protest the action. "There are a few exceptions, but... none like you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"It feels..." Arthur blushed. "It feels  _good_  when you touch me..."  
  
Alfred smiled. "I'm glad."  
  
Arthur peered up at him for a moment, worrying his lip before: "You said you would never leave--?"  
  
"I'll never leave." Alfred promised.  
  
And then... Arthur smiled. A true, rare, genuine,  _beautiful_  smile. It was likely that Arthur, himself, didn't even know yet why he was smiling, but something inside of him brought forth that brilliant, radiant expression, and Alfred felt his heart jump in his chest as he tried to put that sight to memory.  
  
Then the door opened again, interrupting yet another moment, but this time it was with a slam.  
  
There were five men standing in the doorway and, at the front of the lot, was Arthur's brother, Alistair.  
  
"Alright, dragon." He said, the plain clothing from before discarded in favor of some kind of thick armor. "We can dae thes th' hard way..." He twirled a strange looking blade that had runes running up along the side. "Or th' easy way." A toothy grin. "Your choice."


	7. seven o' clock

The sight of the armed men brought back memories-- terrible,  _terrible_  memories. Ghostly hauntings of murder, fear, and fire. He felt an angry rush in his body as he stared out at them, suddenly clutching a baffled Arthur to his chest protectively.  
  
"Leave me alone..." He told them, voice commanding and filled with magic. He could see a couple of the men falter, but the words only seemed to strengthen Alistair's resolve.  
  
"Ye may hae taken th' daughters an' sons o' others, but yoo're nae takin' mah wee brither." The man told him, blade glowing as he pointed it at Alfred.  
  
"What are you doing!?" Arthur protested from within Alfred's arms, looking distraught as his feathers fluffed out. "He's not the dragon! Are you crazy!?"  
  
Alfred felt a strange pang at that, but the men before him held too much of his attention for him to consider it now.  
  
"Ye dornt know whit yoo're sayin', Art'. Yoo've bin charmed." Alistair told him, those piercing green eyes never leaving Alfred's icy blue. "Now lit him go,  _monster_."  
  
Not again.  
  
This wasn't happened again.  
  
No, this time Alfred was stronger, smarter, and faster. This time he could do it. This time he could save them both.  
  
This time no one had to  _die_.  
  
It took only a split-second's thought but suddenly Arthur's brother was charging him, all blade and red hair and angry, ruffled feathers, and Alfred wasted no time in throwing himself out of that third story window, clutching Arthur close to his body to shield him from the shattering glass.  
  
There were yells of men and one, a startled scream, that belong to Arthur, but Alfred didn't have time to consider that as he cloaked them in invisibility, wings erupting from his back in long, thick leather. He flapped once and they were thrown upwards into the dark, night sky.  
  
Arthur was gripping him for dear life, wings plastered to his back as he pressed his face to Alfred's chest, murmuring something that could have been a plea or a prayer. The wind whipped past them and although Alfred was more than used to it, he became somewhat aware that all of this might come as a shock to Arthur.  
  
Still, Arthur was safe. They were  _both_  safe. That's all that mattered.  
  
"W- where are we g- going--?" Arthur stammered out, pale and wide-eyed as he tried in vain not to glance  _down_.  
  
Alfred blinked, realizing that he had instinctively started for home.  
  
A sliver of him felt remorse at having simply abducted the man in this manner, but a greater part of him felt possessive and indulgent happiness in this moment. Arthur was his-- well and truly  _his_. No one could take him away now.  
  
"We're going home." Alfred told him, his voice a gravelly rumble, face drawn in a pleased expression. He knew his horns and tail were visible, necessary components for directing himself in flight, but it mattered not, right? Arthur had dreamt of him! Surely this would only bring him further enlightenment towards what all of that had meant?  
  
Yet Arthur was trembling in his grasp, shaking like a little bird, and it worried Alfred.  
  
But there was nothing to be done about that now.  
  
Minutes felt like hours, but eventually they reached the mountain-- _his_  mountain--and Alfred landed lightly on the cliff's edge that possessed the entrance to his humble little cavern.  
  
Arthur quickly shuffled out of his hold, positively  _shivering_.  
  
"Are you col--,"  
  
"Stay away from me!" Arthur's voice was hurt and pitched as he turned towards Alfred, backing away from him even as his hands rubbed at his skin in a meager attempt to warm himself.  
  
"Arthur, I--,"  
  
"He's _right_ , isn't he?" There was a note of desperation in that voice, angry and hurt. "Y- you are the dragon-- you did charm me a- and spirit me away..."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Don't act like you're not!" Arthur was crying now. "I thought--..." He looked ready to crumple in on himself. " _I thought you were_ \--..."  
  
"I am." Alfred tried to approach him, but Arthur backed away again and the dragon suddenly became aware of the cliff's edge. If Arthur kept on like that, he'd fall. "I'm your _mate_. I really am. I swear that to you." He felt a stinging note of hurt reflected in his own voice. "Arthur--,"  
  
"Just--," The winged man's voice cracked. "Just... leave me alone..." He said, finally dropping to his knees as huddled in on himself.  
  
In that moment Alfred could feel Arthur's despair so heavy and thick he was choking on it and, as much as he wanted nothing more than to comfort his mate and to wipe away his tears, he was also scared.  
  
 _Terrified_ , really.  
  
It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long, long time, but... one wrong move now and he could lose Arthur--possibly forever--not through a love-filled death but a hate-filled rejection.  
  
And so he could do no more than retreat into his home, a gnawing fear of uncertainty in his chest as he went about preparing a fire in the hearth. From here he could see Arthur's figure on the cliff's edge and he simply watched him, unable to withdraw from his position as the man's guardian even in the face of his pushing Alfred away. What if Arthur were to fall? Or fly away? No, he couldn't have that. Not when Arthur was shivering like that, the night air heavy and chilling on his pale, thinly dressed body.  
  
Alfred just sat and waited and watched and, eventually, hours later, it seemed Arthur had collapsed, his fearful sobs no more as he lay limp on the stone in the cold moonlight. Perhaps this whole ordeal had exhausted him?  
  
It was only now that Alfred approached him, careful at first until he grew bolder with Arthur's motionlessness. It seemed he was really out because, even as Alfred picked him up and carried him inside, Arthur did not stir. The man's skin was cold and clammy and Alfred wondered with open concern if he might have made himself sick with exposure...  
  
He placed his mate in his own large, extravagant bed--a four-poster creation crafted by elves and richly decorated--hoping the heavy wool and silk would keep him warm as he returned to the fire.  
  
This time, however, he took his full dragon form, positioning himself so that the chill from the outside world would be minimized, blocked out by his own, heated body. Perhaps now the flames might warm the expanse of the cave system more easily.  
  
After some time he fell into an uneasy sleep.  
  
But there was something deep inside of him, warm and alive and bubbling with a satisfied burn. It was primal in nature, territorial and raw, but it made him feel a giddy, possessive pleasure that was befitting of a dragon.  
  
 _He had his mate back._  
  
And now he could finally protect him properly, here, as the most cherished piece of his great hoard.


	8. eight o' clock

Alfred awoke to a quiet, strangled noise that sounded something like a scream.  
  
His body jerked as his head shot up, dragon form a mass of lean muscle and scale as his eyes spied the form of Arthur and memory rushed back to him, sudden and jarring. His mate was sprawled back as though he'd seen Alfred and fallen, legs sprawled and arms holding him upright as he trembled with a very real and palpable fear.  
  
It was clouding the air, making Alfred feel as though he might choke, but he stilled himself. No-- this Arthur was afraid of him and for good reason. If he moved now, that would only alarm him more, wouldn't it? Like a child spying a great cat or bear-- the best option for the beast was to be still and show itself lacking in aggression...  
  
He lowered his lengthy neck again, letting this head come to rest once more upon his extended forelegs, eyes bright and watching the winged-hybrid with interest.  
  
For a minute or so longer, Arthur merely cowered there and looked at him as though any moment now he would be eaten, but then that began to dissolve away and, as the air cleared, Alfred felt relief for it.  
  
Eventually Arthur picked himself up off of the cold stone, looking at Alfred with open suspicion. "So you _are_ a dragon..." He said slowly, sounding more broken and resigned than anything else.  
  
"Yes."   
  
Arthur jerked at the response, seemingly not expecting the low, deep hum of a dragon's voice to fill the musty air. His wings fluffed momentarily from surprise and then stayed that way, as though he felt a subconscious need to make himself bigger. "So what now?" He said, voice filled with fiery determination and hurt. "You're going to eat me then?" His stance was now aggressive, even in the face of a creature much larger than himself.  
  
It reminded Alfred of the old Arthur and he felt a pang. "No. Why would I do that?"  
  
"Isn't that what you do with all the others?"  
  
This confused the dragon. "What others?" He said, raising his head slightly only to cock it.  
  
"Oh, ohI see." Arthur said, expression openly condescending. "Play me for a fool, will you? Alright. They why  _am_  I here?"  
  
This was obviously a trick question. No matter how Alfred answered now, it would be incorrect and Arthur would argue for its falsity. No, there was no winning, so instead he went with the safest response which was, "What did you see in your dreams?"  
  
They winged-hybrid flinched and Alfred felt a flicker of triumph as the suspicion fled the air and gave way to shock. "Y- you--," Arthur worked his lips. And then he glared, "That's your doing, isn't it--? The dreams, you--,"  
  
"You do not honestly believe that, do you?"  
  
Arthur was silent for a long moment. And then he slumped and shook his head, "No... The dreams... I can't believe they're not mine-- the feelings I have in them, I... I just..."  
  
Alfred was silent, letting Arthur sort his thoughts for himself.  
  
Those fluffy white wings twitched and fluttered as various expressions flittered across his face, none taking roost. Fear, worry, disgruntlement, exasperation, and then something soft and tender and delicate.  
  
And then, finally,  
  
"I'm going back to sleep."  
  
"Oh?" That was, quite honestly, surprising, but with the way Arthur was holding himself, still dressed in his work clothes, he looked exhausted. So perhaps it wasn't all that strange.  
  
"Don't think I trust you-- I don't." His mate told him, although the hostility from before had been shed in lieu of something more subtle and weary. "I just can't deal with this right now. I--," He hesitated and then took a deep breath. "I'm going back to sleep." He repeated.  
  
"As you wish." The dragon said quietly.  
  
And with that, Arthur left him, his figure disappearing from view as he turned back into the hall that lead to Alfred's bedroom.  
  
  
  
It was past noon.  
  
Alfred wasn't sure how much sleep Arthur actually  _needed_ , but this was a bit much, really. The sun had already risen to its highest point in the sky and was now sinking again. It made the dragon worry, to be honest, yet he hadn't quite the nerve to disturb him if he were, indeed, resting. There was no alternate exit, so it wasn't like he had left...  
  
And yet there was something unsettling in the air and he couldn't quite identify what it was. It ate at him, though, prickling his senses and making him pace in his human form as he considered his options.  
  
Really, it all came down to checking in on Arthur.  
  
And so he did, creeping cautiously through the cavern towards his room, ears pricked for any sign of movement. Slowly, slowly, he made his way there, peering into the darkness once he reached the great, arching entrance.  
  
He could see a figure in the bed, the blankets bundled up over the form, and the soft exhalation of breathing met his senses. It was Arthur--he could smell his scent, heavy and thick in the air. Yet...  
  
Yet something was wrong.  
  
Edging forward, he moved to the bedside, looking down at his mate's prone form. And then it hit him--  
  
His face was deep red with flush, breathing slightly quick, if not outright pained. Even in his sleep he looked unhappy, face scrunched up in a look of unease, one of his hands fisted into the blankets. There was a sheen of sweat about him and his wings looked mussed and unruly.  
  
He was quite clearly very, very sick. Alfred felt like such an idiot-- of course he would be after spending hours in the cold! The dragon himself had even predicted this might happen and yet for him to be so negligent despite that was just absurd. He felt appalled at himself.  
  
He fled the cave, fetching fresh, cool water in a jug from a near pond. Returning at once to Arthur's bedside, he dipped a cloth into the liquid and wrung it out before he began to dab at his mate's heated forehead.  
  
Unfortunately that was enough to rouse him now and Arthur awoke looking positively dazed. He blinked, green eyes fogged and unclear, before looking up at Alfred. "You..." He murmured.  
  
"You're sick." Alfred told him gently, dabbing his forehead again. Arthur closed his eyes as reflex, making a pleased hum at the coolness. "Just relax. I'll take care of you."  
  
Arthur made a snuffed noise. "I'm not... I'm not sick..." He mumbled.  
  
Great gods above, this Arthur was far too identical to his own for Alfred's good. "Yes, you are. Now rest."  
  
The winged man shook his head slightly. "No-- 'm not... not sick..." He said again, but before Alfred could protest that he added, "My brother gives me medicine every day."  
  
Suddenly the dragon felt a spike of anxiety consume him. "What is it? Do you need it now? Will you be alright without it? I can go get some if--,"  
  
A laugh cut him off, soft and breathless. "I- It's... it's not like that, I..." Arthur shuddered slightly, looking up at him. Alfred's breath caught at how dark his eyes were. "I don't know what they do, really." His mate admitted. "But I know they prevent this from happening."  
  
Alfred swallowed. "What... is this?" He asked, feeling oddly light-headed.  
  
"I don't know." Arthur told him. "My body feels warm and-- and I..." He seemed to struggle for words. "I feel tense and hot. It... it almost hurts..."  
  
"That doesn't sound good..." Alfred murmured, mouth dry.  
  
"And I feel dizzy." Arthur added. "It wasn't so bad when I was a child, but now...--," The younger man froze at the palm that was suddenly cupping his cheek before he proverbially melted into it. "You feel so cool..."  
  
"Cool?" Alfred said, frowning lightly. Arthur  _did_  feel hot to his touch, which was extremely worrying. A human shouldn't be warmer than a dragon, even if Arthur was only half of one. This couldn't be natural--  
  
"Will you kiss me again?"  
  
His thoughts came to a screeching halt at that one, little request and he blinked, mind reeling. "A few hours ago you were claiming me to be untrustworthy." He pointed out, if only for Arthur's sake. He didn't want to damage things further by seeming to take advantage of him while he was like this.  
  
"I- I know... I know that, but..." Arthur shuddered, his entire body wracked with a single, shivered movement. "Please? I feel... I feel like that will help..."  
  
"Are you sure?" Alfred said, not quite sure what to make of this. It honestly didn't make sense, but to deny his mate a request-- _any_ request--  
  
"Y- yes, please--," Arthur was looking up at him and--  
  
His eyes were practically glowing.  
  
Alfred swallowed, mind swimming with... with  _something_  that he couldn't quite grasp. "Okay..." He said. "Alright."  
  
He leaned in slowly.  
  
And their lips met.


	9. nine o' clock

Alfred had expected a soft press of lips, but what met him instead was heat and fire and a flaring feeling in his chest that was so intense he found himself climbing into bed with Arthur without even thinking about it. The smaller male tasted like sweets and, more than that, magic.

Breaking away for a moment, Alfred gulped in air, suddenly aware of the fact that he was perched neatly atop his mate, straddling him, those brilliant, white wings now fanned out against the mattress. Arthur was panting, looking completely dazed and more than a little out of breath, but the thing that really caught Alfred's attention was the very visible glow about his eyes.

They were a color that he happened to know very well.

"Arthur, you--," He murmured, suddenly aware of the charm that coiled around his body like ropes or, perhaps, little, invisible vines. It was growing, lengthening, sprawling and trying to exert control-- and it originated from Arthur. The winged hybrid was pulsating with raw power and it took the dragon a moment to realize that he wasn't even _aware_ of it.

It was very likely that Arthur had no idea he was doing any of this at all.

"T- that..." His mate breathed, chest heaving from the effort. "That didn't... didn't help..."

"Are you in pain?"

Arthur shook his head, tears beading in his eyes. "N- no, not pain-- not pain but... but I want you to... to touch me more. Everywhere. _Please_. It feels so nice, I just--,"

"Okay, okay..." Alfred said softly. As much as he wanted to shrug back the charm... it was obvious that something was wrong with his mate and maybe, if he indulged him, it would soothe some of the stress. So although he could have broken the spell with just the tiniest exertion, he didn't.

No, he fell into it. Sank, really. Head first.

It started with a soft kiss but that quickly eased into something _more_. Arthur was arching up against him from under the blankets, arms wrapped around his neck, silently pleading for him to stay close. Alfred, too, drank him in, greedy and selfish and wanting to devour from his mouth years of livelihood he hadn't gotten to experience with him.

The longing he had felt suddenly fled him, perhaps a fleeting sensation, as his suffering was all resolved in this one kiss. This. Here. This physical press of bodies. He could feel their bond strengthening, the tie between them firmer now.

And at the same time he felt drunk and giddy, whether off of his own emotions or the charm in the air, he couldn't say. But it wasn't pain and sorry and mistrust and worry-- it was just this. For the moment it was just the warmth of the body beneath his. He wondered if Arthur felt the same way.

The smaller male broke away this time, a gasp on his lips as he squirmed and said, "Touch me more-- _more than this_... I feel hot... I--,"

The dragon pulled the covers back, his human form burning with a need to give Arthur everything he might have ever wished for. He tugged the garments off of the other half-human, careless to the buttons that scattered like frightened mice as he threw the shirt to the side. Arthur's skin was pale but flushed and the mating mark stood out like a beacon, the rosy pink of his fangs clear against that flawless skin. A rumble of pleasure danced in his throat as he leaned in and nuzzled the mark, enjoying the moan that shook through Arthur as the winged-male arched and twitched.

"You're mine." He breathed, possessive, teasing the mark with his teeth as his hands roamed the curve of his spine. "Always, always _mine_..."

" _Ngh_ \-- y- yes..." Arthur keened in agreement as Alfred let his hands wander the other's body. _He felt the same_. It was odd, but after years upon years he hadn't quite expected that this new Arthur to feel the same. Yet he did. Everything from the softness of his skin to the sharp curve of his hips was just as it had been, as though the wizard had never left him--

As though death had never played him such a cruel hand.

"Oh gods..." Alfred found himself saying, grief stricken and mindless. "I missed you. I missed you so much, Arthur. You have no idea." He clutched him close, simply taking in the press of their bodies as he nuzzled his neck and let his senses swim with that earthy tea smell. "No one is ever taking you away again. Never again. I promise." Because he would die, at this point. Without Arthur--after having waited so long--he couldn't bear it.

He couldn't bear being alone anymore.

A soft sound of a moan in his ears made him shift to regard his mate with interest. Arthur was looking up at him heatedly with practically the same amount of intensity as his former self might have. "I don't--... I just..." He breathed again, sounding desperate and maybe a little confused. " _Please_ , touch me more... I- I feel like I'm going to explode..."

Alfred blinked, "Arthur..." He cooed, and, suddenly realizing something, he let his palm come down to settle over the winged male's crotch.

Arthur nearly yelped, the sound in his throat like a choked moan as he tried to press into the half-dragon's hand. He was hard beneath all that fabric-- undeniably so. Yet he also seemed visibly distressed, wet lines running down his cheek. "I- I don't understand." He half sobbed.

What was there to understand? He was simply aroused--

Oh. Unless that, in and of itself, confused him?

Hadn't his brother said something about physical touch hurting him before? If that was true then...

Then he would be a virgin, wouldn't he be? Would he even have any sexual experience at all?

"Arthur?"

"Mm--?" The half-human looked up at his inquisitive tone.

"Have you ever touched yourself before?"

"Touched... myself...?" He repeated slowly. Suddenly his eyes widened with understanding and he shook his head. "N- no-- Alistair said it was-- it was bad to do that so--,"

What in all hell was going on.

"Why would he say something like that?"

"I don't know." Arthur admitted slowly, sitting up to look at the hand that was still pressed to the bulge in his pants. If nothing else, he looked more alert now. "I don't know." He repeated.

"You want me to touch you though?" Alfred said, kneading the tender flesh through the cloth.

Arthur nearly bucked into his hand with need, but he still managed an airy sounding, "Yes!"

For a moment, Alfred simply considered his situation. Here was his long lost mate in some kind of state of intense sexual arousal, having likely never even masturbated let alone had sex despite being more or less twenty years of age, and yet seemed to be exuding enough charm to inebriate the minds of several dozen humans...

Had he been in town, men and women alike would have surely jumped him. Alfred had had years to practice his magical resistance to such things...

So then what was really going on behind all of this?

Turning his attention back to his mate, the dragon felt oddly reminded of himself suddenly, although he hadn't been nearly so prudish nor had he really been desperate, yet things apparently always took a turn for the sexual when it came to Arthur and, suddenly, Alfred could say with full honesty that he wasn't even surprised.

"Alright." He said, suddenly feeling fairly confident about all of this. "You started me off this way, so I think it's only fair I return the favor."

Arthur looked up at him, confusion plain across his face, but he was suddenly distracted by how the dragon was unbuttoning and yanking him free of his pants. "O- oi--,"

Alfred palmed him through the cloth underwear he wore. "You want to be touched here, right?"

The other hybrid nearly purred, "Y- yess..."

"Then sit back and enjoy yourself, because I learned quite a bit from you."

"I don't understa--," Arthur cut himself off as he was shirked of his last piece of clothing, looking wary and wild and needy all at once.

Alfred gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, although it came off more as a cocky grin. "Watch."

Wasting no time, he sheathed that perfectly hard, swollen cock with his mouth.


	10. ten o' clock

Alfred wasn't sure what to expect as he began to give Arthur his own, personal brand of oral, but the long, drawn out moan that sounded more like a scream hadn't entirely been on that list. It wasn't surprising, per se, but the smaller male was arching up, his back like a taut bow on the verge of cracking, and his wings were fluttering in a short frenzy.

It was impressive, if nothing else. And Alfred hadn't even moved yet. He gave the length in his mouth a short suck, suctioning his cheeks before shifting to running his tongue over the head, swiping free what he could already taste as precum.

Although...

It was odd.

It tasted _sweet_.

The half-dragon suckled at him, relishing the way Arthur writhed, but when more was forth coming he took a moment to pause and taste it properly, running his tongue gently over what should have been a salty and bitter liquid. And again... it tasted sweet.

Well, sort of. It tasted... very unlike what Alfred had expected. It sort of had a honeyed flavor to it that simply shouldn't be. It made him feel slightly antsy as, suddenly...

He found himself wanting more.

Now his actions were, strangely, not entirely selfless as he began on this venture to taste more of this strange flavor, his arms coming up to still Arthur's trembling thighs so that he could get a better grasp. He pinned them in his hold rather effectively, bobbing his head with an energy and enthusiasm he hadn't had for hundreds of years, the gasped, melodic cries ringing around the chamber and echoing off of old stone.

Arthur was half-sobbing, half-clutching at the bed as he continually bent and retracted as though he didn't know whether to rock his hips forward for more or retreat from the over-stimulation.

Yet Alfred wasn't really letting him do either as he continued the aggressive assault on neglected and tender flesh. His mate's legs twitched in a slight spasm, his cries giving way to gasps and breathlessness.

And then he came. It was a sudden rush in Alfred's mouth and he nearly gagged at first before catching himself, shifting to suckle free the flood of semen, making every last drop count as he swallowed it, lapping the head of Arthur's cock when there was no more, just to be sure.

It'd been sweet, like some kind of lewd nectar. It still tasted like, well, _ejaculate_ , but he found himself drooling slightly and he swallowed the saliva accumulating in his mouth, painfully aware that a response like that was particularly absurd.

And then Alfred looked up, realizing belatedly that there were feathers everywhere.

And not just a few, either. It very much looked like a bird or twelve had exploded all over his bed, leaving in their wake no more than the fluffy plumage they'd worn, yet all he could see was Arthur, his wings looking just as bright and full as they had been prior, his body flushed red from arousal and his breath coming in short huffs. He looked exhausted and on the verge of passing out entirely.

And the charm had faded now, dissolved away into nothingness as his mate's need was satiated.

Alfred just found himself thoroughly baffled. "Where did all the feathers come from...?"

Arthur glanced at him briefly. Then he looked around, blinking as though he hadn't seen all the fluffy, white down prior. "I dunno..." He slurred.

The half-dragon stared for a moment.

No-- He still didn't understand this.

"Okay, well..." Alfred said slowly, trying to return his thoughts to something that made sense. "You feel better now right?"

His mate nodded tiredly, a sleepy, pleased grin splitting his face like a cat that had just downed a particularly large bowl of cream. " 'm much bett'r..."

"Well, good." The magic that had been raging was quiet now, a gentle lull emanating from Arthur's skin, but nothing more than that.

"Mmm..." Arthur was on the verge of sleep.

So Alfred left him, allowing him the rest he so desperately seemed to need.

 

"Amelia, what does it mean if someone explodes feathers when they get off?"

The small faerie looked up at Alfred with surprise. "What?" She had been his only friend in this lonely place for over two hundred years and his most trusted confidant. He'd told her everything about his past life and she had consoled him appropriately.

And now she was visiting this evening and Arthur was still asleep from earlier and Alfred had _questions_ , damn it all. And he didn't happen to have a store of books and knowledge like Arthur had had so long ago, so he was out of luck as far as personal research was concern.

But maybe his friend would know.

"Yeah. Feathers. Like with orgasm and just--," Alfred made a motion with his hands, "feathers everywhere."

Amelia was looking at him as though he'd said something crazy but she wasn't quite ready to call him on it. "Okay... Well, uh... feathers, huh?" She said slowly, thinking. "I don't know anyone who, um... molts during orgasm."

It wasn't exactly molting, but Alfred wasn't about to correct her. Arthur hadn't looked like he'd lost a single plume.

"There are a bunch of creatures with feathers though, you know, so... you could ask the angels or the harpies or the phoenix or the cupi--,"

"I get it, I get it. I guess he's, uh... half-angel? He looks like one."

Amelia blinked. "Does he emit a holy energy?" She asked, curious now.

"Um." Alfred considered this. "I don't... think so. No. I doubt you'd call it holy. It feels more like his old magic, actually. All _lust_ and _charms_ and--,"

"Oh!" Amelia brightened. "Then maybe he's a c--,"

"You know it's rude to talk about someone behind their back." A new voice groused.

Both Alfred and Amelia glanced up.

The half-dragon had been seated at an old wooden table in his human form, chatting with the faerie whom had been settled next to a petite cup of coffee-- dragon-fire brewed.

Arthur stood in the entrance way to the main chamber, the area bright from the natural lighting that filtered in from the cave's entrance. He was dressed in the clothing Alfred had left out for him, considering that the hybrid's shirt had been ruined. It was a simple, green, silk nightgown and the back had been cut out via a claw, leaving frayed edges and room for wings. Considering that Alfred didn't exactly own a mirror, Arthur's hair and dress really did scream, _'I had sex recently.'_

Amelia discretely hid a grin behind a tiny hand.

"Um..." Alfred had no excuse for his mate, but at the same time he didn't really feel bad about what he'd done either. It was only natural that he'd need to discuss all the curiosities he was dealing with, after all.

And then he peered at Arthur, curious, and said,

"Hey, what _are_ you anyway?"

Arthur gawped at him, looking offended, but the subject change was thorough effective. "What _am_ I?" He balked to the dragon. "I'm a human and--," He faltered. "I'm half human." He finished lamely.

"Half human and what else?" Alfred asked, more curious now after Arthur's hesitance.

Those feathery wings puffed slightly. "I- I'm..." He flushed red. "It's none of your business!"

He knew.

_Arthur knew._

Alfred was before him in an instant, his mate taking a reflexive step back. "This is important, Arthur." He said. "You said you were taking medicine, right? And after what happened earlier--,"

The man with the white wings made a strangled noise, shushing him with a pointed glance at the faerie.

Alfred was undaunted. "It's _important_." He insisted.

"It _wouldn't be_ if you'd just take me home, you bloody git." Arthur told him, suddenly looking weary and livid. He crossed his arms, his shoulders coming up defensively as though he'd just realized, again, his situation. Trapped here as a dragon's damsel, so to speak.

"Please tell me." Alfred said, trying to will him to understand through their bond. "Please?"

It seemed Arthur was still very much affected by their connection, whether he knew it or not, as his emotions turned from irritation to something akin to guilt and wariness. "I- I... I suppose... If you really need to know so badly." He mumbled. "My brother said not to tell anyone so... so you'll have to keep it a secret." He looked up at Alfred, green eyes practically begging. "You will, won't you?"

"Of course." Alfred assured him, trying to put forth every ounce of earnestness he had into his expression. He meant this-- truly.

And he wanted his mate to know that.

The winged male stared at him for a moment, shoulders relaxing slightly as he relented and exhaled a slow breath.

"Well, it... it's a long story, but..."

Arthur raked a hand through his hair, disheveling it further.

"I wasn't born into my family." He said. "I'm not even sure I was born at all."


	11. eleven o' clock

Alfred stared at Arthur, brow furrowing, "What do you mean you weren't 'born at all'--?"

The smaller male shuffled on his feet awkwardly, looking down at the cave floor. "They found me in the woods." He said simply.

The half-dragon blinked, "Woods?" He knew he was repeating himself, but every word his mate said now was one closer to understanding what had happened to him, and Alfred was eager to absorb all of it.

"Erm, yes..." It seemed Arthur had come to the realization that he would indeed be forced to explain himself, so he took a step back to lean against firm rock, looking off at the expanse of grey wall. "They found me in the woods-- well, our, um... My siblings' mother, I suppose. She was a, well, an angel-- _a full one_ \--and she had sensed something strange, so she had her husband take her into the woods."

Emerald eyes met his own and Alfred nodded, "Go on."

Arthur's gaze flickered between the dragon and the faerie and he sighed. "Well, from what I understand, I was this little, er, _baby_ ," the winged man gestured, "just kind of wandering about. With wings like the ones I have now, which was fairly alarming because my, erm... siblings' mother assumed I was an angel at first too, but..."

"... but you're not." Alfred finished for him.

His mate nodded. "Exactly." A breath. "I'm not."

Never one to be good with suspense, Alfred awkward shifted from foot to foot. "So you're a--?"

" _Cupid_."

The half-dragon blinked, his mind going blank for a second before it ticked back to life again. "So you're a _type_ of angel, then...?"

Arthur exhaled a laugh. "Goodness, no."

Alfred bit his lip, "I don't really... _know_ anything about cupids." He admitted.

"Of course." Arthur said easily, looking more relaxed now for some reason. "No one really does. But," He shifted back to look at the cave roof, " _she did_. Our... mum. She knew quite a bit."

"Seriously, if you keep on being mysterious--,"

The apparent cupid laughed. "I guess that's fair." Arthur looked at him. "If you're expecting some kind of great answer from me, you'll be sorely disappointed." He said. "All I know is what I am and what I have been told. That being said, I'm not fully human and I'm not fully, well, _cupid_ , but, regardless, there's something _wrong_ with me."

Alfred frowned, "What do you mean?"

"See, the thing is... cupids aren't really angels that make people fall in love. I mean, we _can_ \-- _I_ _can_ , but... we're more like..." Arthur considered this for a moment, "I suppose you could say we're more like succubi."

Alfred felt his entire body go completely rigid as something familiar and painful seized him for a moment before it faded, leaving heartache in its wake. "An... incubus..."

Arthur blinked, "What?"

Laughing slightly, the half-dragon gave him a sad smile. "You'd be an incubus, not a succubus... because you're male..."

"... Yes, well..." Arthur brushed the comment aside. "We're supposed to spread love and warmth to those around us. We're blessed spirits, or so its said."

"Do you?"

"No." Arthur said, meeting his eyes again. "No, I can't touch anyone. It feels physically painful. So everything bottles up inside until I can't take it anymore..."

"And you... require sex to--,"

"No!" The part-cupid interrupted, "No, I-- I mean, it's not _supposed_ to be that way! I'm _supposed_ to be able to give love-- it's a type of energy that I generate. But no matter who I touch or who touches me, I can't expend it. And I don't know why." Arthur bit his lip and tipped his head away, but his gaze came up again to meet Alfred's again, "Well, except for you. You're the first person I've ever been able to be, er... t- touched... by..."

Amelia giggled and Alfred shot her a look.

Clearing his throat, Arthur ran a hand through his hair and made a face, suddenly self-conscious as he tried to right what he couldn't see. "A- Anyway, that's all I know. And cupids aren't just born-- part-cupids are completely unheard of. It just doesn't work that way. So no one even knows _why_ I exist."

"Maybe you can't expend your magic because of the bonding seal." Amelia suggested happily, floating in the air.

Arthur jerked his head up to look at her, "Bonding seal--?"

Alfred suddenly realized where she was going with this, but she began again before he could stop her, "Yeah! The one he put on you a long time ago!" She said, pointing helpfully to the dragon.

The cupid looked between the two of them, a sudden look of hurt and rage on his face, "Y- you did... what--?"

Alfred flinched. "Wait, Arthur it's not what you--,"

"No, really, a bonding seal? _A bonding seal_ \--?"

He was getting sick of the accusations and the misinterpretations and, really, just sick of having to repeat himself. "I told you already-- you are my mate!" Alfred roared, the dragon in him rumbling to life. "You always have been!"

Arthur looked angrier now, undaunted by his rage, "And you never explained to me what that means! So what if I have dreams about you--? Memories that I don't remember--? What is it all supposed to mean!? Can you understand how confusing my life has been up until this point?" His mate looked near tears now as he stalked forward, twenty years of rage unleashed.

Despite himself, Alfred took a step back.

"I have never been able to touch another human being and I can only just _tolerate_ some! Our mother could never hug me or I would cry! And I had terrible dreams that would keep me awake and when I _was_ awake I'd feel such terrible heat and need and pain! Even just managing to _function_ normally has been a nightmare and now--," Arthur grabbed his collar, smaller hand fisting in the fabric, "now you come in and swoop me up and tell me all these new, confusing things and _so help me god_ if you don't explain it to me, because I feel like I'm going to go insane!"

The part-cupid was breathing heavily now, wings fluttering behind him with the effort it took to draw every breath, his face an angry red and his eyes like venom.

And Alfred couldn't really blame him.

"I'm sorry." The half-dragon breathed, looking suitably ashamed. He'd never really given Arthur's situation much thought, too overjoyed to have found him to care. And now he'd taken him away from his home--from his family--and for what? Alfred met his eyes again and glanced away. "I'm sorry." He repeated.

Arthur released his collar, stepping away. He was shaking with some emotion-- probably rage. "Don't just be sorry. I'm tired of 'sorry'. I've heard 'sorry' all my life." The part-cupid exhaled a shaking breath. "If you _know_   what's going on with me, please explain it, because my whole existence has been one giant, fucking mystery up until this point and you--," he pointed at him, " _you_ seem to know all the bloody answers."

Alfred looked up at him, gnawing guilt heated and coiling in his chest. "Y- yeah, I... okay... I'll tell you everything. Please, just hear me out-- it's not pleasant--,"

" _I don't care_ if it's pleasant." Arthur retorted. "My entire _life_ has been unpleasant. I just want to know the truth."

"Fine, fine, I--," Alfred exhaled a breath. "Fine."

Arthur looked up at him, expectant, and he suddenly realized the weight that had been placed upon him. How on earth could he possibly explain to his mate everything that had happened? How much he had meant to Alfred? How much his past self had suffered in the end?

He had had hundreds of years to prepare for this... and yet he still wasn't ready.

Steeling himself, Alfred's gaze met critical greens.

"The truth is... you had a life before this one." Alfred said slowly, carefully, his eyes trained on Arthur's. "And in that life you were my mate."

It felt good to finally, _finally_ say it.

The half-dragon laughed, feeling slightly crazed as tears welled up in his eyes.

"I loved you so much." He said, his voice choked.

Arthur was staring up at him, eyes wide as it dawned on him. "I died..." He breathed, voice hardly above a whisper.

Alfred found himself nodding, and he realized that no amount of time could have made this moment any easier. "Yes." He managed, voice soft. "You did."


	12. In Which We Begin Again

Arthur's life, for as long as he had lived it, had been a jumbled mess.

They had estimated him three years of age when he was found, just a tiny tot in the woods, naked as the day he was born, dirtied with mud and grime. His mother had said that his wings were so brown she'd thought that his natural coloring until he'd been given a thorough bath.

Yet everything had been made so very _difficult_ by the fact that a single touch would cause him to whine, cry, or scream, a hand grasping his wrist like a burn that coursed through his entire being, agony from the inside out until he was released, choked and gasping.

And so he had considered himself cursed.

Yet his mother had always insisted he was blessed.

Staring back into the icy eyes of a dragon-turned-human, Arthur still wasn't sure which was true.

But his body felt cold--

Numb.

And his gaze was searching. "So the dreams are..."

"Memories." The dragon said, running a hand through his blond hair. In this moment he looked human save for the sharpness of his pupils.

Arthur pinched his eyes closed, pained, a hand coming up to brush the fabric over his chest. "I... I know which dream then." He breathed, having had that one a thousand times. A steeling pierce that woke him, sweat-drenched and writhing.

When he opened his eyes, he was startled to see the dragon looking nearly ill, eyes fixed upon his hand.

This was a lot to consider, honestly, and he wasn't sure how to feel about any of it.

"I... have something to show you." The dragon said suddenly, looking at up at him, expectant.

Arthur eyed him, cautious. "What...?" He asked warily.

"It's, well..." The dragon seemed to struggle for something to say before shaking his head. "You'll just need to trust me. It's... important. I promise."

To be quite clear, he wasn't sure he could trust the dragon as far as he could throw him--which was to say, not at all--but there was something about the way he said that that made his curiosity stir and, really, what choice did he have? He sighed. "Fine. What is it?"

"Get on my back." The dragon told him. He hesitated as the creature turned, wings and tail and horns appearing in a shimmer of magic, but after a moment he found himself suspiciously hupped onto the creature's back, strong arms catching his knees and locking him in place as he made for the exit to the cave.

Suddenly alarmed--although what exactly had he expected anyway?--Arthur clutched at that broad back, bracing himself just as the dragon dove off of the cliff's edge. The rush of chilled wind and the suddenness of falling went straight to his would-be mortal heart, the sensation sending a shock to his system. Yet all too soon it was over and he heaved a breath, clinging to the dragon like an over sized bat, certain his wings were a mess now.

He was released, however, and he slid off of the back, readjusting the dressing gown of sorts, which had ridden up. "Was that truly necessary--?" He asked, dazed by the way his heart was thumping anxiously in his chest.

At least the dragon had the decency to look sheepish. "Oh, uh, sorry."

"Sorry, _indeed_..."

The dragon-traits disappeared back from whence they had come, the man appearing fully human again as he gestured for Arthur to follow him into what appeared to be another cave, although this one's entrance was at ground level apparently.

He followed after, wondering how and when his life had become so very _absurd_.

The dragon stopped suddenly and Arthur had to work not to run into him, annoyance clear as he huffed... but then he peered around him to see what the fuss was about and his anger left him.

This little cave was remarkably short, but it ended in a small, open area.

And in that area a tombstone was nestled, made of a gleaming white stone that shimmered in the beams of light that streamed down through a crack in the ceiling. The head wasn't marked with a name, but instead other words had been inscribed, charcoal black in color, simply reading:

_'To the most magnificent man to have ever existed,_   
_May you rest,_   
_Guarded for all eternity.'_

A bundle of white roses were set before it, looking only days old.

Arthur stared, comprehension jarring as he felt his throat go tight. "That..."

"That's his gave." The dragon said quietly and as Arthur looked up he found the blond's face contorted into an expression of reverence. Then those sharp blues turned to him, brighter in the dimness of the cave. "Your past self is buried here."

For some reason phrasing it like that made it hit harder than he would have liked, looking back at the grave with awe, wonder and...

Possibly _terror_.

Fear of death was natural, was it not?

 _And yet_...

And yet he stepped forward, entranced by the sight of it, something in his mind scrambling for this. He felt compelled, almost hypnotized.

His hand met cold stone and he jumped, unaware that he had gotten close enough to touch it. Unaware that he had even reached for it, of all things.

A hum of energy sizzled beneath his palm and he sucked in a breath, "This is--,"

The sudden crack of sound that filled the small space was deafening, but, more than that, Arthur felt it throughout his entire body like he'd been struck by lightning, belatedly realizing that something bright and vivid swirled around him, a pattern of light and color he could hardly see, senses wavering as though he were on the verge of a black out. Somewhere in the distance he heard someone screaming his name.

And then it ended, as suddenly as it had come, his knees and palms hitting the dirt as he panted, exhausted, his entire body coated in a cold sweat and his head pounding furiously, thoughts muddled and clamoring together as though they were at war, spears and swords like bolts of pain as he sunk lower, clutching at his hair in an attempt to make it stop.

"--thur! Arthur!" Hands were upon his back--his shoulders--concerned and tight as they turned him, and he sucked in a wheezed breath as he peered up, blue eyes swimming in his vision.

Something _clicked_ and everything settled.

His vision calmed, focus returning.

His thoughts still felt strange--fuzzied blurs about his mind, scattered like mice in a field--but...

 _But_.

He pinched his eyes shut, shook his head, and sucked in a breath.

Looking up, his brow furrowed. "... _Alfred_ \--? What are you doing?"

The dragon jerked slightly, the hold on his shoulders tightening just so. He couldn't fathom why.

Well.

Until those wide eyes searched him, lips parting to breathe an awed, "I... I never told you what my name was..."

It was then that Arthur realized that that was true.

And his confusion only worsened when he tried to search for the memory of where he had learned it, the vision coming to him far easier than he could have imagined.

A sunny day.

A forest.

A bright-eyed man who grinned at him radiantly, offering a hand to shake along with the words:

 

_'You're a really powerful wizard, aren't you? My name's Alfred Jones. I want to be your apprentice!'_

 

These memories...

They weren't _his_.


	13. In Which Arthur Issues a Request

Alfred had thought that maybe introducing Arthur to the grave of his former self would help him come to terms with what he had been told, as though the solidity of the stone could have backed up the dragon's words in a way that his assurances couldn't have.

He had not expected _this_ , however.

It had been but a mere touch; Arthur's fingers had just barely grazed the glimmering white polish. Then a light had blinded Alfred momentarily and the next thing he knew the other male was kneeling with his fingers dug into the dirt, looking pale and exhausted, and the headstone was cracked straight down the middle, the dark grey words shattered with it.

It was more than alarming, but at the same time...

The magical signature of the spell had very much been _Arthur's_. And whatever it was, it had been his will that had put it into motion.

And now this Arthur had grown subdued and quiet, having passed out in the cave only to be brought back up to Alfred's home, waking hours later, withdrawn.

Alfred had silently offered him food and Arthur had taken it, looking grateful but saying nothing as he gently tore off strips of treated venison and carefully ate the buttered bread. Occasionally he would drink from the steel mug of water, but he said nothing.

He looked... lost.

And it gnawed at the dragon.

"Arthur?" Alfred ventured carefully, settling in the chair across from him. He was in his human form, naturally, not wanting to spook the boy with wings and scales when he looked so very, very vulnerable.

Arthur looked up at him, eyes eerily blank. "Yes?"

Hesitating for only a moment, he decided to just dive in. "Arthur, would you mind telling me what happened back there in the cave?"

The winged boy said nothing, staring down at his food with more concentration that it was worth, his brow furrowing slightly.

And then,

"I remember it all." He said, voice so soft Alfred nearly had to strain to hear him. "I remember everything."

Alfred felt breathless and hopeful and fearful all at once, which was honestly a strange combination of emotions for him considering that for nearly three hundred years he'd felt only a numb and aching sorrow. "... Everything?"

If Arthur remembered everything then... why did he look so distraught?

The cupid looked up at him, eyes firmer now. There was light there, but it was weak. "Yes." He said simply.

"Do you--... Do you want to talk about it?" Alfred tried.

Arthur shook his head. "No. No, I really don't."

_Pain_.

It hurt, somehow, to hear those words. Guilt. His murder had been Alfred's fault alone and the dragon was well aware of this fact.

And yet... there had been so much joy between them. So much possibility. A weird little love that had sprung up from circumstance.

It felt like all of that was being rejected.

"Selfish." Arthur murmured quietly, making Alfred's head jerk up in surprise. Those green eyes were dull, but there was a scolding look in them that didn't fit the new Arthur he had come to know. "None of this is about you."

"How did you--?"

"Your thoughts are wild and unguarded." Arthur said simply.

Alfred could only stare, mute and astounded. "You can--,"

"Yes." Arthur looked irritated. "Memories or not, I have been able to hear your thoughts since we first met. Not all of them... but some. Here and there. I knew your intentions were good, so I didn't put up too much of a fight even after you kidnapped me. I didn't know much more than that, however. Now it feels as though it's louder; I can hear everything."

Alfred wasn't sure what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. He did, however, quietly tuck his thoughts back into his head, blocking off the careless transmission with magic.

Arthur suddenly looked annoyed, but said nothing regarding it, instead opting for, "I have these memories which are... mine. Two sets." The cupid looked at him, weary. "And I don't know which one I am."

"Which... what?" Alfred asked, although he thought he knew the answer.

"Which _Arthur_. I know, logically, that I am the one whom has experienced the most recent of my memories." The winged man looked at his own palm, a calculating expression on his face. "This body is inexperienced in magick. It has traces of something else within it. And I feel unused to it in a way that I can't quite explain."

And then he looked up again, eyes meeting Alfred's with a strange sort of intensity.

"As much as I loved you, our time together was brief, and there are many other things that I have just recently learned about myself." Arthur's gaze returned to the table, expression tired again. "Lovers I have lost... People I have wrongfully killed... _Nightmares_... I almost died a handful of ways, only surviving by the skin of my teeth. And that is a lot to absorb all at once." He decided. "I need more time."

Alfred was quiet for a minute or so, the silence stretching between them like a band until, suddenly, it snapped.

"I understand." The dragon said. "I--... I didn't really think it through. I'm sorry. That's..."

"It's fine." Arthur said suddenly, standing. His wings folded neatly behind his back-- careful and deliberate and unlike the normal Arthur, whom had always had them loosely extended.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Arthur affirmed, before wordlessly leaving this room of the cave system and disappearing further in. Alfred didn't bother to follow him, but his ears were pricked to pick up every possible noise he could.

It was no use. The cupid was as quiet as death.

When Arthur returned again, he was dressed in his waiter's outfit, the stark black and white of his clothing making a tremor of unease surface in the dragon.

"That's... an interesting form of dress."

Arthur looked at him and Alfred suddenly felt paralyzed. "You will take me home." The voice said. Yet it reverberated, powerful and wild and filled with magic.

The dragon in Alfred roared to life suddenly and he stood so quickly his chair fell over, "I will do no such thing!" He said before he could even consider his words. Then he weakly added, "You're my _mate_ , Arthur. You remember it now, right? I waited so long for you. You're part of my hoard! I can't just--,"

"You. will. take. me. home."

The words were melodic and dangerous, pricked knives in the air, making Alfred's heated skin goose pimple like a human's. He felt bound by the command.

Arthur's eyes were glowing.

"I- I..."

The cupid walked up to him, gait smooth like creamy silks, his features a sudden thing of beauty as his hands came up, palms shifting to rest over Alfred's cheeks. Those eyes were like pools of gemmed water and he couldn't look away.

"Alfred..." Arthur murmured, soft. Gentle. _Coaxing_. It made the dragon feel like a child again. "Please take me home, love."

The dragon felt his own throat bob as he swallowed. "Okay." He said. "I'll take you home."

Arthur simply smiled.


	14. In Which Alfred Lends His Aid

The last time Arthur had been this high up in the air, he had been securely latched in the dragon's claws like a trinket or bobble nicked from a store by a young child. And he supposed that that wasn't really all that far from the truth. Dragons were like grubby-handed children, snatching the things they wanted in their paws or maws before toddling off with them, thinking the items secure as long as they hid them somewhere dark enough.

The pair landed on the outskirts of the city, Alfred lingering by the fringe of a worn old forest that had been logged and cut, the trees dying and growing back at least once over in his absence.

Well, in his previous self's absence.

He knew, distantly, that the forest should have been familiar to him, and in some ways it was, but its face had changed so much in so short a time that it left him dizzied with this sense of wrongness mixed with déjà vu.

The dragon was staring at him with hard eyes that could have very well cut diamonds and Arthur would have found it humorous but at the moment nothing in particular was all that funny to him and so he merely stared back. After a lengthy, pointed silence, he felt himself frown. "Well? Come along then."

Alfred's eyes widened perceptively in the moonlight, stricken. "Into the city?"

It was a flicker in the air. A tremor of fear so small and subtle that it was barely even there. Had he pointed it out, he was sure the other man would have denied it. Arthur felt sympathetic all at once. "I won't let my brothers hurt you." He said quietly, striding up to the now mostly-human dragon.

He remembered his love for him and that was enough to confuse his own heart, because the reality of it was that he was inexplicably attached to what felt like a stranger.

He disregarded the befuddlement in favor of curling soft fingers into the fringe of hair at the back of the dragon's neck, easing him down into a sweet, chaste kiss.

Alfred leaned into it, surprised, hopeful hesitance alight in the air, a whine clicking in his throat as Arthur drew away again.

"You're... not the same as before, are you...?" His companion murmured, subdued and thoughtful.

"The line between _your_ me and _this_ me has been irreversibly blurred, but, if you're truly that curious, I am still very much a virgin in this body."

The dragon blinked at him, owlish, before laughter bubbled up into something disbelieving and relieved all at once and before he knew it Alfred was shaking his head and clutching his stomach. "You would--," He choked, "You _would_ jump to something like _that_ \--!"

The scene was a little obnoxious so Arthur warmly tugged Alfred's still-present horn, which set the poor thing off balance, making him stumble and almost fall.

"Hey!"

"We haven't got much time." Arthur told him, starting for the city. "We have to leave before sunrise."

Alfred trailed after now, quiet in his confusion but voicing the most prominent concern on his mind with an uneasy, "Your brothers want to kill me."

"You should have known better than to tamper with an already paranoid little city." Arthur told him dryly. "You upset the balance and now you're seen as a threat. Revealing your dragon form was a terrible blunder, honestly."

"I--," Alfred faltered, before he huffed a quiet, "Yeah, I suppose so." And then, "What do you mean by 'paranoid'?"

"Disappearances. Vanishing townsfolk. Murder. It's been going on for _years_. People spirited away without a trace, all of it blamed on a fabled dragon looking for revenge for its fallen lover, taking the women and men of others." Arthur said. From the surprise in the air, he fancied Alfred had been completely and utterly oblivious. "My brothers are morons-- I do not fit the profile of the kidnapped _at all_. Each and every one of them had been married."

"Oh." Alfred murmured, and when Arthur glanced back he found a ripple of magickal energy had washed away the last of his dragon features, leaving only those blazing eyes behind.

"You really didn't know?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Um, well, I don't exactly visit all that often..."

"Hm."

Just a few minutes more and they would be in the city. Having turned away now, Arthur could feel the pinpricks against his skin where Alfred was staring at him.

He shuffled his wings with an amused, "What is it?"

The dragon was quiet for a moment, almost contemplative, when, "Why are we here?"

Arthur turned to look at him, aware that they were still out of range of anyone who might chance to overhear. "We're here because every morning I go into the throes of something akin to a very powerful heat and my brother, I realize now, knows what that is, why it happens, and has kept that information from me. I intend to find out what it is that he is hiding."

Alfred looked concerned. "And you think he'll just tell you?"

"No." Arthur gave him a coy smile, letting his right wing extend suddenly, the rush of feathers smacking the dragon lightly in the face. Retracting the appendage, he was hard pressed not to laugh at the annoyed expression. "But apparently this body is a cupid, of sorts, and I now realize that there is some power in that. I can _make_ him tell me."

"Power..." Alfred repeated, looking suspicious. "What power?"

Arthur smiled at him, opening his mouth and ushering forth not words, but song: " _Alas_... _my love, you do me wrong_..."

The last note lingered in the air before fading, leaving behind a proverbial mist as it dissipated.

The dragon went carefully still and the air crackled with feeling. Alfred's skin was a shade paler as he looked at him. "You're using charms..." He breathed.

Arthur simply smiled. "Before the pub was renamed Siren's Call, it was simply titled The Ugly Mug." He began, walking again. The streets were empty save for the occasional drunkard or beggar. "However once I was employed there, they quickly became aware of some of my... peculiar talents. Once I had become popular enough, they renamed the location to fit the crowd."

Arthur took a breath, feeling weary.

"I started there as a dish washer when I was only eleven."

"Arthur, that's--,"

"Our mother had died, Alfred." Arthur said, turning to look at him. "And our father killed himself shortly after from heartbreak. We needed the money."

The dragon was blessedly silent, but everything about him emanated empathy on a deep level. Knowing the scarce fragments of detail that was the man's past, Arthur could understand why.

"For years all these secrets have been kept from me. And I have already experienced more pain than I truly care for." He studied his hand, working his fingers and feeling the magick that ran bone deep through them. It was stronger now. Not tamed, but not as wild either. "I reincarnated, _but for what?_ This tragic world?" He looked at Alfred, bitter. "I have tasted both life and death and so help me if I won't make the best of this new flesh and blood."

"Arthur..."

The cupid looked at him, lips smoothing out into a soft smile. "I love you." He confessed suddenly. "And that was what grounded my power to this world. For that I am eternally grateful."

The sudden embrace didn't surprise him. Alfred was warm, arms thick with muscle yet tender with care. He leaned into it.

"But right now I need to find out what is wrong with me." He continue, voice hardly above a whisper. "There's so much _I don't know_... but I have the power to find out. I don't have to suffer, helpless, as I did the first time around." He took a quiet breath to calm his nerves. "Will you help me, Alfred?"

" _Anything_." Alfred told him, squeezing. "Anything at all."

A heat surged up in him that left him dizzy and he sighed as old emotions surged forward, catching him off guard with their newness like antique possessions unearthed in an old attic.

"Good." He said, pressing his face into Alfred's shoulder and feeling his eyes prick with tears. " _Good_."

He took a shuddered breath.

"She died for me, Alfred." He admitted, words haunting the cool, night air. "And they never told me _why_."


	15. In Which Arthur Casts A Charm

Alfred wasn't exactly sure what to expect when they arrived at the little home nestled neatly between two other buildings, the upper window clearly boarded up in temporary repair.

He stared at it, feeling slightly guilty.

Arthur's knuckle had only just graced the door with two sharp raps before the wood flew out from under his hand, a blur of red hair embracing him, sudden and entirely--

\--and causing the man to yelp in what appeared to be pain.

In an instant Alfred had parted the two, yanking his mate out of the hands of his brother with a rough jerk, the cupid giving a whine and a shudder.

"Shit, Arthur I'm sae sorry. I forgot 'at ye--," Alistair's eyes jerked up to meet Alfred's, noticing him for the first time. "You!" He seething, reaching over for something out of sight of those in the doorway.

"W- wait, stop it, Alist--,"

"Dornt worry Arthur, I'll free ye frae thes beest..." The gleam of a blade was visible even under the faint light of the streetlamp and Alfred jolted as the winged man jerked out of his arms, blocking his brother's access to the dragon.

He froze, a chill on his spine at the familiar scene.

"I told you to stop it!" The cupid protested, trying to yank the blade away. His brother struggled with him for all of a moment, but in the end Arthur won, managing to twist it out of his hold by the handle.

Unfortunately that also entailed the cupid giving a short cry as he accidentally cut his arm at the stumble back.

Two voices cried his name at the same time but Alistair retrained himself at the last moment, fingers having been so close to touching the younger man that he very nearly brushed his skin, but pulling back just as Alfred grabbed him, moving the cupid's arm carefully to survey the damage.

The wound was superficial, but that didn't stop the strained beating of his heart where it thudded with fear, escalated to panic by the familiarity of it all. When he turned his eyes to Alistair, the air crackled with magic. The other man froze, eyes blown wide from what was likely fear.

After a minute, when the standoff became too much, the brother cast his eyes remorsefully at Arthur's torn sleeve, the white cloth blood soaked now. Conceding for the moment, he sighed and stepped aside. "Come inside. we need tae treat 'at."

Alfred snuffed, agitated. "You're not going to play nice and then go call your little friends again, are you?"

Alistair glared at him but Arthur's voice broke the staring match with a pained, "Please, brother, just... just leave him alone for now, okay?"

The red-head's eyes softened a bit at his brother, but were as sharp as ever when they flickered up to Alfred again, " _For now_." He muttered.

Accepting the tentative truce in favor of treating Arthur's wound, the two entered. A kit was produced and Alfred took it smugly from Alistair's hand, cutting off the already-ruined sleeve with some scissors before disinfecting the cut, a low roar of irritation in his gut at the fact that his mate had even been harmed in the first place.

Had he not been Arthur's brother, Alfred would have eaten him.

"Sae, dragon, ye decided tae dae th' right thin' an' brin' mah brither back, huh?" Alistair said, hovering in the only doorway to this room with open unease. Alfred could smell the scent of a blade on him, but he wasn't sure where it was being sheathed.

Arthur sighed, seeming weary, but the dragon ignored the comment in favor of wrapping a cloth bandage around the shallow cut.

"I asked him to bring me back and so he did." The cupid said.

"That's pretty noble 'o heem." The red-head drawled, sounding unconvinced.

Alfred felt a tendril of magic spark the air, but this time it wasn't his own.

Arthur was angry.

"Brother, if you insult my mate again I won't make the mistake of returning again."

The dragon looked up, surprise across his features, his gaze shifting to the man in the doorway whom looked as though he'd been struck.

Alistair's viper green eyes snapped to Alfred, accusing, "Whit kind o' charm did ye pit oan heem--,"

Arthur stood suddenly, all tense muscle and ruffled feathers, livid. "Brother." He stressed, as though the word were foreign on his tongue. "Stop. There is no charm on me and you know it. I'm not another victim-- I'm not even married."

"But he's a dragon, Arthur, an' he--,"

"Yes, he _is_ a dragon, but he's _my_ dragon and so help me if you hurt him you will regret it."

Alfred felt his heart flutter and warm ten times over, having trouble suppressing his joy at that as his lips threatened to curl up into a prideful smile.

Alistair, for all of a moment, looked utterly and hopelessly betrayed. And then it settled into something colder-- _resigned_.. "Fine."

Despite the way Arthur's brother was looking at the cupid as though he'd just murdered the family pet, his mate sighed with relief and sat down again, allowing Alfred to continue bandaging his wound. Alistair watched them for a long moment.

"... You're nae gonnae be stayin' here, are ye?"

"No, I am not." Arthur said, looking up at the man, "I just came here to ask you some questions."

The brother scoffed. "An' why dae ye think I will answer them?"

"Because you're tired of hiding the truth..." The cupid said calmly, his voice low and deliberate. Alfred felt the magic that suddenly soaked the air, a charm of soothing, one that made him both weary and relaxed all at once.

From the look on the older man's face, it seemed to have struck him as well, the tension slowly unwinding from stiff muscles.

He didn't even seem to realize it was happening.

"... Th' truth, huh?" Alistair quipped shortly, raking a hand through his messy red hair. "Dae ye e'en know whit yoo're askin' me?"

"Stop keeping secrets from me, brother."

Alistair barked a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I dunnae what 'at dragon did tae ye Arthur, but yoo're nae th' same..." The man said. "An' I dornt troost either ay ye."

Alfred frowned lightly at that, but it wasn't his place to say anything. Not now. Not when the room was alive with Arthur's magic subtly sifting through the air, setting the mood and controlling the atmosphere with a dangerous precision.

His mate looked up at his brother, but his voice was cold. "You thought I was asleep..." He said softly, the air flickering to a heavy sense of sorrow.

"Whit ur ye talkin' abit?" Alistair said slowly.

"Why did you do it?" Arthur continued. "She asked you to do it and you did, but why? You could have just killed me, but you chose to listen to her instead."

Suddenly the elder brother's face went as pale as a sheet and Alfred's entire body pricked with interest, a sudden sense of dread flaring up in him.

"She was crying, Alistair. Why did you listen to her?"

"Ye dornt--... It's nae like--... I couldn' jist--..." The man looked truly shaken, like a child, frightened to his very core.

"She didn't have to die."

" _Yes she did!_ " Alistair suddenly yelled, the dark household reverberating with the sound. "Ye weren' there! Ye dornt know whit I know!"

"Oh?" Arthur murmured, voice low and smooth. That one word said everything that he hadn't--that _of course_ Arthur didn't know because his brother had never told him.

Alistair looked completely beside himself, tossing his younger sibling one last look before storming out of the room. He returned a minute later with a book, tossing it at Arthur roughly, a growl springing up to Alfred's lips at the sudden act of aggression.

Luckily his mate had caught the thing, but the twinge of pain at having to use his wounded arm did not go unnoticed.

"Is 'at whit ye wanted 'en!? Fine! Take it! I didne need th' damn thin' anymore anyway!"

Arthur held the old book to his chest with the same gentleness as one would an infant, bowing his head momentarily in gratitude. "Thank you."

"Jist... jist leave... _jist go_... please..." Alistair said, looking pained and torn all at once-- a man broken.

Wasting no time, Arthur stood and Alfred followed after, the faint sound of a woman's voice calling, "Brah'der, who were yer yellin' at?" right before they shut the front door behind them.

The cupid began to walk quickly, starting for the outskirts of the city. Alfred didn't even have a chance to ask why before Arthur murmured a breathless, "He'll know I tricked him with a charm in about two minutes. I want to be as far away as possible by then."

"What is that book?" The dragon couldn't help but ask, following the other's brisk stride with ease.

"Our mother's journal. Everything is in here. I don't know where he was hiding it, but it doesn't matter now. He'll surely come after me for it."

Alfred was quiet a moment before, "Did he really kill your, ah... mother?"

"Yes and no." Arthur said, the outskirts quickly coming into view. "I'll explain once we're back at the cave."

"Alright." Alfred agreed. Nearly a minute passed before he spoke again, just as their feet went from cobblestone to soil. "Thank you."

Arthur looked at him, surprised. "What?"

"For back there-- the things you said, I..." He rolled his shoulders in an awkward shrug, slightly flustered. "I appreciate it."

The cupid's eyes went soft, "I haven't forgotten, you know." He said quietly, the two stopping just near the fringe of trees. "Who you are to me."

Alfred suddenly felt choked and he shook his head, aware of the danger they were in here. "We should go back."

Arthur leaned in to stroke his cheek with his fingers, the soft, feather touch making the dragon shiver and lean closer. "Once this is all over-- this mess I want to sort..." The cupid said carefully, gaining Alfred's full attention. "Let's go away somewhere together. Just the two of us. I--... I know part of me still feels like you're a stranger but... you're _not_. I know this now. I want to--,"

Bright green eyes turned to look sharply at the buildings a short distance away.

Alfred wasted no time, a dragon in mere moments, grasping Arthur gently in his claws as he rose up into the sky, invisible before another word could be said.

The emotion he had sensed from Arthur was clear, however.

They were in danger.

Sentiment could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Arthur was kind of a jerk to his brother, but there was a good reason for it...


End file.
